Road Rage
by Kaibbage
Summary: Not-boyfriends Yami and Bakura go on a road trip. Darkshipping. X-posted from AO3.


"This is your fault, you fuck," Bakura said casually as he flicked open the top of his flask and knocked back a mouthful of what Yami knew to be cheap gin. His feet were up on the dashboard and his elbow was out the open window and no one had probably ever so flagrantly disregarded the confines of a car seat before. He'd tucked the upper part of his seatbelt behind the headrest, wearing only the waist belt. Yami had fought quite a bit for even that.

"How is this possibly my fault," Yami grumbled, keeping his eyes on the road. He did not want to give Bakura the satisfaction of looking at him.

Bakura just shrugged. "Well, you are driving."

"Exactly. You were supposed to give me directions, which I notice you still aren't doing." Yami replied acerbically, slowing a little as the winding road took a long corner. They'd actually chosen a very scenic part of the country for their road trip, and for about the millionth time Yami thought about how much more fun he'd be having if he'd come with his excitable brother Yugi instead of his rude and dispassionate not-boyfriend.

"I'll direct you straight up my asshole," Bakura's tone was indifferent, though humorously enough 'asshole' was one of those words that made his accent very obvious. Yami did not plan on ever telling him this. As he examined his phone to hopefully find out where the fuck to go, he groped blindly in the center console of the car. Without thinking about it, Yami glanced over to locate the cigarette case he was obviously looking for, and spared a hand to give it to him. Eyes still on his phone, Bakura dragged one of the smokes out with his teeth before tossing the case aside again. The careless flick of a zippo had him to his first puff without ever having to look at the thing.

"If I have to smell that and you don't give me any, I swear..." Yami started, jaw set and absolutely ready to go through with whatever his threat was going to be. He was cut off when Bakura exhaled directly into his face. Whatever he'd been about to say turned into his most commanding "Bakura!" As he inhaled the filthy taste of the smoke. There was an almost overwhelming tug of want in his stomach, just as irresistible as all of the inopportune times Bakura had ever chosen to grab his crotch and give a good squeeze.

"Fussy, fussy," Bakura teased. This was usually when he'd lean over and take Yami's chin with one of his graceful fingers and almost delicately turn his head before leaning in with a mouthful of smoke for a nicotine kiss that never ceased to be electrifying. This was obviously not the wisest choice when he was driving, so Yami was delighted when the filter was pressed between his lips by two fingers that lingered there long enough for him to take a drag. He held the smoke long enough to roll his window down a few inches, and the wind whipped it away as he exhaled. The passenger window was already down a similar amount, and Yami had more than once during this drive admired the way it made Bakura's long and wild hair whip around a little.

"So where do we even wanna go?" Bakura grunted, trying to hold his phone out of the sun so he wouldn't have to turn up his brightness.

"Maybe a rest area?" Yami said. He'd like to stretch his legs. Unfortunately Bakura had been drinking, so he wouldn't be taking over for a little while.

Bakura made a disgusted noise. "Can't you piss on the side of the road you spoiled princess?"

"Certainly," Yami scoffed. "I just want to stop driving for a few minutes, is that so much to ask."

"Yeah." Bakura said with a dry smirk that said he was fucking with him. A long-fingered hand crept over to Yami's thigh, the thumb rubbing teasing circles through his pants. He knew if he scolded Bakura for trying to get him riled up while he was driving, the idiot would almost certainly go at it with ten times more reckless abandon. So he just set his jaw and kept his eyes on the road. "Mm, looks like there's something on exit 18 up here. Don't think it'll be too posh." He squeezed Yami's leg.

"Can you behave?"

"Whatever do you mean," Bakura purred, leaning to rest his chin on Yami's shoulder.

"You're insufferable."

"And you're a prick, so let's call it even." At the word 'prick', he trailed the back of his hand up Yami's fly. He just snickered at the little warning growl he earned. There was a faint hint of color high on Yami's cheeks, but he chose to ignore it and hope it would go away. He focused on the exit numbers and refused point blank to look at Bakura, because if you gave him an inch he'd take a mile. However, not looking at him didn't prevent Yami from feeling his leer. He could see the exact expression in his mind's eye - the curled lip that exposed teeth in what almost looked like a predatory snarl. He blatantly ignored it, aware that Bakura would get more annoyed with each passing moment.

"Don't miss the exit," Bakura sounded almost bored. Yami glanced over automatically as he spoke, and his mouth fell open. Bakura's cigarette was still perched lazily in the fingers of one hand, but the other was curled around the hard dick he'd pulled out through his fly. As Yami watched, the man took a last slow drag of the cigarette and tossed the butt out the window. As he let the smoke curl out of his mouth and nose, still lazily stroking his cock, all that Yami could think of was an honest to god incubus. "You ought to be watching the road," Bakura ran the tip of his tongue over his upper lip.

Yami gave him a warning growl, but flicked his eyes back to the road. The car had actually been drifting to the edge of the lane, and he evened it out with his hands white knuckled on the wheel.

"Am I offending you, prude?" Bakura nudged him with a foot. Was he completely incapable of sitting in a seat correctly? How was his foot there?

"Someone is looking to get fucked," Yami said in his lowest and most irate tone. Bakura just answered with a dark chuckle, rubbing his foot against Yami's thigh. The exit number came up, and despite the incredible distraction of his hard cock pressing uncomfortably against his fly, Yami did not miss it. It took a lot of willpower not to try and rearrange himself to relieve his discomfort, but he didn't want to give Bakura the satisfaction of seeing him squirm in his seat. He would make the man pay for this; this unacceptable behavior. The slight movement of Bakura's jerking off was just visible enough from the corner of his eye that it was clearly still happening, and Yami's lip curled in angry frustration.

A sign for the rest area came up immediately, and Yami turned the car in. It wasn't much of a rest stop, as Bakura predicted. Surrounded by trees and populated with a restroom structure that appeared to be only one step above an outhouse and a few picnic tables, it wasn't exactly fully-equipped. There were a few other cars, and a couple sitting at one of the picnic tables, but Yami pulled into a space in the empty far corner. He was still refusing to look at Bakura as he pulled the parking brake and flicked off the ignition - only when the car was silent except for the tick of the cooling engine did he say anything at all.

"Get in the back seat and prepare yourself for me," he said in a quiet, but exceedingly commanding tone.

Bakura snorted. There was a click as he undid his seatbelt, and then he was leaning over Yami's lap. Despite practically crawling across him, Bakura didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Yami felt his own seatbelt undo, and he looked down to raise his eyebrow at the piece of shit in his lap.

Bakura was giving him a toothy and decidedly wolfish grin. "I want your ass."

Yami rolled his eyes. "Do you have lubricant accessible? If you were planning on spit the answer is a resounding no."

Bakura smoothly pointed to the glove box in a way that said he'd clearly planned this whole thing. He looked so self satisfied that Yami wanted to break his fucking nose. "Get in the back seat and prepare yourself for me," he said in what was a more than passable imitation of Yami's tone - though Yami would never admit it. It was too infuriating.

"Very well," Yami huffed, twisting lithely around to crawl between the seats. Once he got there, he popped the button on his pants and started to shimmy out of them. He stared Bakura down as he did it. He was anything but a passive bottom, and he would not let anyone forget that for a moment.

Bakura leered at him between the seats from behind his wild windswept mane of hair, leaning casually on his elbow. He looked ready to strike.

"Guess I have to come fingerfuck you," he muttered with obviously sarcastic annoyance. "Seeing as your stupid little arms are too short." His grin grew positively predatory. Yami felt his cheeks color with a furious blush, but he determinedly ignored it and crossed his arms over his thin chest. "I know you can't even have a good wank," Bakura gave him a wide-eyed look that was probably supposed to be innocent; though the effect was rather terrifying. "Seeing as you can't get your fingers in your arse past the second knuckle." He crawled enough to plant his hands on either side of Yami's hips.

Yami scowled. "I deeply regret telling you that."

Still grinning like a maniac, Bakura moved completely on top of him as fluidly as a snake. He fisted one slender hand in the front of Yami's tank top and dragged him around to lay fully across the seat. In retaliation, Yami grabbed a rough handful of hair and yanked. "Fuck off," Bakura hissed at him, his voice a little husky. The tone made Yami smirk. He loved seeing the effect he could have on Bakura.

"Your hair is tickling me," Yami said haughtily, swatting away the tips of the locks that dragged over his chest. Bakura just ignored him, fingers like claws yanking down his briefs and raising scratches on his hips. "Hha," he arched a little despite himself, the hot little lines of pain making him want more for reasons he never really understood. He thought of himself as a strict sadist, but Bakura's biting and his rough hands always drove Yami wild. Shockingly sharp nails dragged down the toned V of his hips, drawing out a hot gasp.

"Whore," Bakura growled, but there was affection in his voice. His hands left Yami's skin, and when they came back they were slick and cold. Feeling them rub against his entrance was still something that Yami found alien; Bakura was the first to genuinely have desire to be anything other than the receiving partner. Yami still didn't prefer it, but he knew how good it could feel and that this partner (though he'd never allow himself to be called that) was willing to put the time into helping him enjoy it. Yami gave a grunt of displeasure when a finger actually slid into him, his stomach tensing involuntarily.

"Relax," Bakura muttered as he bent close to Yami's ear. His voice was uncommonly gentle and there was the slight sting of alcohol on his breath, though he was far from drunk. That long finger twisted and beckoned patiently inside of Yami, who tried to take deep breaths. "You're such a tightass."

Yami didn't react - he was used to Bakura's flirtatious insults - and shifted to try and get more comfortable laying across the back seat of a sedan, which was almost impossible. "I can't believe you're insisting on fucking me in a car."

"You wanted to fuck me in the car." Bakura's finger hooked sharply into his prostate, and Yami reflexively brought his fist to his mouth. "That's probably a good idea," Bakura purred as he continued to grind with a fingertip, earning a humiliating hot gasp. "As much as I like hear you cry and all."

"I do not cry." Yami summoned up all the composure he had left for his usual stern tone, offended.

Bakura just grinned and drew his hand all the way back. When he pushed in again, it was with a second finger. He didn't even pause a moment before starting to thrust at a merciless pace, his other hand bruisingly tight on Yami's hip. Every breath was its own little gasp, and Bakura's thrusts were violent enough to make him slide back on the seat. Though Yami would not likely admit it, his size probably also played a part in just how much he was moving. He grabbed the headrest of the back seat to stabilize himself, gripping the edge of the seat itself with the other. By the time he wasn't totally overwhelmed by Bakura's brutal pace, his hips were rolling down to meet each thrust. He prided himself on how active he was in these situations. No one fucked him - he fucked himself. He panted open-mouthed, and Bakura's hand came up to fist in his hair, wrenching his head sideways.

"You're such a pretty little slut," Bakura said fondly, pressing deep to grind on his prostate again and practically salivating as Yami's face contorted and his thighs twitched. "You really being touched like this for a guy who tops so much. You know?"

Yami's hand shot up to grab the back of Bakura's neck, jerking him down to kiss him hard. Their teeth crashed together, neither of them caring about being tidy; and Bakura started slamming his fingers into Yami again as hard as he could. Still pinned by his hair, it caused his neck to wrench but he was not in a position to fight it, not with Bakura's assault making his muscles refuse to work properly.

"Can I put my cock in you yet?" Bakura whispered against his lips. He accompanied the words with one of those vaguely threatening chuckles of his and hooked his fingers roughly.

Yami only growled in response.

"I like that. Let's hear it again." He slowly dragged his fingers out, slapping his sticky hand on the side of Yami's ass. He got his wish, though it was less because that had hurt and more because lube was disgusting. "You're so fucking sexy when you're pissed," Bakura grinned again, and his hand finally left Yami's hair. There was the sound of him pushing his pants off, then he grabbed Yami's hips with both hands and yanked him onto his lap.

There were few things Yami hated more than being thrown around like a toy, and he let Bakura know by kicking him in the shoulder. Of course, there was no doubt it did much but make him harder. Yami could tell that was all his sharp glare was doing, so he squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Bakura pressing against him.

"Does that hurt?" Bakura teased as he slowly pushed in, no doubt noticing Yami's clenched teeth.

"Your tiny dick? Hardly." Yami attempted to scoff in return, but his voice was ragged.

"Good." The dark grin was almost audible, and it became immediately obvious why when Yami was forced to take the rest all at once.

He let out a harsh cry, his eyes popping open as the sudden pain gripped him. He was not the only one panting now. Bakura was leaning over him; and due to his height advantage they were more or less eye to eye even while he was inside Yami. He was remarkably disheveled, even for his standards, and his hair was tickling Yami's face and neck.

"Your hair is in my face," Yami muttered angrily, resisting the urge to squirm as the discomfort started ebbing away. He determinedly stared Bakura directly in the eye, even when he felt one of those slender hands wrap around his cock and slowly start to jerk him.

"Mm," Bakura didn't sound like he cared. He gave a leisurely squeeze, watching Yami closely as he groaned deep in his throat and arched his back. The groan turned to a frustrated growl as Bakura sunk his teeth into that exposed neck.

"Fucker," Yami snarled breathlessly as Bakura held on. When the bite was finally over with, he hardly had time to collect himself from the dizziness of pain before his knees were suddenly rammed up against his chest, his calves hooked over Bakura's bony shoulders.

"That's right," Bakura's voice was a husky whisper. He loved hearing Yami curse, and when he started rubbing his thumb over the sensitive tip of his dick that was no doubt what he wanted more of.

"B-Bakura!" It was supposed to come out angrily, like his usual reprimands, but Yami knew it just sounded like he was crying the name in pleasure. He was deeply frustrated. He wanted to cum, he wanted Bakura to wreck him, he wanted to not be in this trembling and vulnerable position any more. He wanted to admit that he loved it and he wanted to swear he wasn't even capable of losing his position of control.

The brutal pace started again, and this time Yami couldn't even form coherent thoughts. His hands clung tangled in Bakura's hair, he was crushed up against the door of the car and his shoulder was no longer on the seat. He heard a clunk and Bakura cursing, but didn't even realize at the time that it was because he'd hit his head on the car roof.

"You're pretty damn noisy, whore," Bakura growled as he slammed right into Yami's prostate, pulling another full throated moan out of him. Yami couldn't even see straight any more. Everything was too hot and too cold and too much and not enough. Every single nerve in his body felt raw and electric. Bakura chose that moment to pause and run a hand smoothly down his body, and the helpless little sighing groan that resulted would have humiliated Yami in any other circumstance. "Overstimulated," Bakura muttered, seemingly to himself, before slamming in again and resuming his pace.

Yami's body seized and twitched like he was having an orgasm, his head slamming back against the door with an unstoppable silent scream. His mind didn't white out, and his spine didn't tingle; he knew he wasn't actually cumming but the feeling wouldn't stop. It was bordering on painful. He didn't even notice Bakura was finished until his rhythm broke, then stopped, which finally brought Yami back to a clear head - or as clear as it could be with his cock still aching hard against his stomach.

"Too much for you?" Bakura said in a tone that was both mocking and somehow fond. He was still trying to get his breath back, and his darkly flushed cheeks were enough to make Yami want to drool.

He let out a pathetic whine when Bakura pulled out of him, and lifted a violently trembling hand as if to say something about it. He hadn't gotten off yet, that wasn't fair; but his mouth didn't want to form words.

"Yeah, yeah. You're gonna cum, don't worry." Bakura's voice was a lot softer than usual. He shifted back on the seat, then bent to kiss Yami's hipbone. "Princess."

"Don't... Call me..." Yami gasped as those kisses slowly, slowly moved lower. When he finally felt wet heat on his cock, he clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from being really loud. Bakura bobbed his head just slowly enough, and it took an embarrassingly short time for Yami to finally feel that prickle in the base of his spine. He groaned behind his hand, arching up off of the seat while Bakura kept gently coaxing it out of him.

Yami was left too tired and sore to move at all at first. He stared at the sky through the sliver of car window he could see out of while directly below it. What a nice sky.

Bakura crawled back up to obstruct his view, looking abnormally content. "You taste funny today."

"Lovely." Yami replied dryly. He considered adding something about how his nice view of the sky had been blocked by something far less appealing, but that sounded like a lot more words than he thought he could make.

A hand rubbed across his cheek. "Hey, thought you said you didn't cry." Bakura's content look was back to his more normal devilish grin.

"I don't cry."

"Why's your face wet?"

Instead of answering, Yami grabbed him and yanked him in for a long and lazy kiss. They still weren't too concerned about how sloppy they were, but there was no teeth this time. After sex, Bakura was known to be a little more generous in the amount of affection he tolerated; and Yami would never pass that up.

"Your cum is leaking out of my ass," Yami grumbled against his lips.

"Get it out now and it won't give you the shits later."

"You're disgusting." Yami finally managed to push himself up to a not quite sitting position with shaking arms. "And you've made me disgusting."

"Well, there is a bathroom right there." Bakura reached between his legs and trailed his fingertips through the cum and lube on his inner thighs.

Yami made a disgusted noise. "You'll need to use it now that you've done that."

"There's napkins in the glove box."

"And I don't particularly want to walk over there when all of those people just -" Yami cut himself off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Heard you crying?" Bakura grinned like a wolf.

"Heard us having passionate sex," Yami said firmly, wincing as he pushed himself fully upright.

Bakura rolled his eyes and pulled his pants up, awkwardly squirming down on the seat so he could button them up. "I'll drive. I don't trust you to drive straight after you get fucked that hard." He bared his teeth in a grin before crawling between the seats. When he got up there, he tossed a few napkins back at Yami.

"Fine," he took them and cleaned himself off, then tossed one at the back of Bakura's head. "But I'm sitting back here and braiding your hair. It's a mess."


End file.
